“Excuse me, can you tell me where the occupants of that haveli are? I mean the old couple who live there,” I said, bowing down so that they could hear me.
The echoing laughter died down and the men looked at each other in an odd manner. One turned to me and asked, “Which old couple are you talking about?”
“I'm a doctor from the town hospital. A couple of nights back an old Tau wearing a dhotikurta had brought me here to treat his wife after halting my car on the narrow road. The old lady was suffering from strong fever but recovered soon after I gave her an injection along with a paracetamol. I just wanted to check on her again but the gates seemed to be shut today,” I said, pointing towards the house.
The men surveyed me for a moment. The one sitting in the middle of the gathering frowned and stood up. He was old with a turban on his head. He wore large specs and had a white curling moustache. I could tell he was the Sarpanch, the village headman.
“Babu, those gates have stayed shut for the past eighty years,” he said, taking a puff from his beedi.
The Other Side
43 “Wh… What? What do you mean?” I stuttered. “No one lives in that accursed place for the past eighty years,” he stated again.
“Of course that can't be possible. I came here a couple of nights back. I saw the old couple, my wife was with me, and I treated the old lady…” I blabbered.
“Sometimes our eyes play tricks on us, some very fine tricks,” he said in a low tone.
“No, that can't be. I am not lying. The old man indeed stopped my car, asked me to save his wife…”
Suddenly all the men in the group got up on their feet and eyed each other nervously almost like I had spoken something that they were dreading. They mumbled something in the local dialect of which I could just catch a few odd phrases.
The old man who had been talking to me came near and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“You lived a night when history repeated itself, it seems,” he whispered.
“Huh?”
“Almost a century ago, this house was occupied by the Thakur and his family. They had two faithful servants, man and wife it is said. Ramcharan was the caretaker of the house while his wife, Pushpadevi helped with the cooking, cleaning and washing,” the headman stopped to stare at the haveli.
“Post his youngest son's sudden death, the Thakur's health started failing and in a year or so, he too passed away. His offspring had by then tasted the moods of the emerging urban life and decided to shift to the city, leaving Ramcharan and Pushpadevi to fend for themselves and take care of the place with meager wages. Ramcharan chose to stay back as he could not desert his malik's estate on account of the years he had served the Thakur family. The sense of duty however could not save them.
“It is said that one night, Pushpadevi developed some strange sort of fever and Ramcharan ran from house to house in the village seeking help. When no one from this village helped him, he ran to the other village taking the route from the jungle but there too no one was ready to sacrifice their night's sleep to look after the old lady. Hours later, when Ramcharan came back alone and defeated with the hope of some miracle, he was greeted with the gruesome sight of flies zooming in and out of his wife's gaping mouth on the cot. He called out to her many times but a dead person doesn't speak. Lying on the foot of that cot, Ramcharan too breathed his last on the same night. And since then, the events of that night replay themselves every year. Ramcharan's spirit searches for someone who will save his wife. His shouts can be heard in the jungle and in the narrow lanes… but you said you managed to treat her, didn't you?” the old man looked at me.
“Y… yes, I did treat her and she seemed fine and blessed us,” I mumbled.
“God bless you, babu. You have granted them peace in their death. The poor souls just needed some care and affection. Ramcharan wanted his voice to be heard, his wife needed some love…”
“What the hell are you talking? I treated the old lady with my own hands, the old man brought tea for us, I gave them medicines and money…”
The old man in front of me nodded as if he understood my turmoil perfectly.
The Other Side
45 “Would you like to go in and check the place yourself?” the old man proposed.
“How?” I gestured towards the locked gate.
“Sampathlal,” the old man shouted and a young man in his twenties stepped ahead from the group.
“Take the babu inside the haveli. Let him have a look around,” the old man said.
Sampathlal had an alarming look in his eyes, almost fearful but the old man's eyes seemed reassuring.
“Come babu!” Sampathlal said and I hesitatingly followed him. He took me towards the back of the house. A portion of the wall seemed to have collapsed and was covered by a large boulder.